


Day Night Day Night... Day

by FictionIsntReal



Category: Day Night Day Night
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionIsntReal/pseuds/FictionIsntReal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without purpose, she sits on the sidewalk. She hadn't planned for this. She could just keep sitting and wondering why, but a car pulls up. NYPD. Maybe it will go away eventually. What does it matter. It matters, for everything larger than herself, but she can do nothing for that now, and has nothing left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Night Day Night... Day

**Author's Note:**

> Begins after the film has ended. Little context or exposition for what is going on (it even feels like cheating to include those subjective thoughts in the summary), but from the very beginning can spoil how things turn out. Sorry for the summary again. See the film before reading this, and try to see it without knowing anything about it. For a film so suffused with mundane details, I really should include a lot more, but I tend to think too abstractly for that.

It's late, and the street is as calm as it gets this close to Times Square. A squad car rolls up and stops. The officer lowers his window and asks "Everything alright, miss?"  
She hadn't been paying attention to the car, even as it pulled right next to her on the sidewalk. She lowers her gaze from the night sky to the voice from the car and politely responds "Yes, sir". She doesn't sound intoxicated. He asks anyway.

"Have you been drinking?"  
"No, sir." She doesn't have a distinctively New York accent, but he can't place where she might be from, or her ethnicity. He believes her, but still asks the inevitable follow-up.  
"Any drugs? I'm not narcotics, not gonna arrest ya if you're high."  
"No, sir. I don't do drugs." Again she looks at him when being spoken to or responding, but looks down at her feet at the bottom of the curb otherwise.  
In the better light emanating from his car, he notices her eyes are a bit red, and the faint residue of tears on her face.

"Are you alright?"  
"Yes, sir. I'm okay". She doesn't sound quite as convincing.  
"Something happen to you?"  
A sigh. "No, nothing happened."  
"Are you waiting for someone?"  
"No, sir. There's no one."

She's wearing a blue jacket, but since she's all huddled up on the sidewalk, he says "A bit chilly out. You got somewhere to go? Somewhere to stay?"  
She pauses, as if the notion had just occurred to her. "No, sir". She doesn't look homeless, more like a student considering her backpack.  
He stops his car and gets out beside her.

"Did you get kicked out? Are you homeless?"  
"No, sir. I'm just visiting."  
"Awful late out for tourism. You got a name?"  
"Leah Cruz, C-R-U-Z, L-E-A-H. 3312 Douglas Avenue, Longfield Colorado, 80536." She spits it all out instantly, without pausing long enough to consider how strange it would sound. Suspicious.

"ID?"  
She reaches into her pocket and takes out a pink and white striped wallet. When she unzips it, he sees no other cards, and just a few small bills and a couple coins. The face on the card she holds out matches her and the info she's given (plus a birth date of April 10, 1987). It's recent looking. He notes down the info and hands it back.  
"Are your parents in town? I could call them, get them to pick you up. Ah, you probably already got a cell."  
"No, sir, thanks, sir, I don't have one. And my parents are dead." There's none of the emotional inflection you'd expect from that statement. He sits down beside her on the curb.

"Sorry to hear that. Any other family in town?"  
"No, sir. Just me."  
Looking at her overstuffed yellow backpack again, he asks, "You a student?"  
"Yes, sir".  
"Anywhere around here?"  
"No, sir, in Colorado". A long way to bring a backpack full of textbooks.  
"Which school?"  
She pauses a while before hesitantly answering, "University of Colorado".  
"Whaddaya study?"  
Another pause before answering "Math".

"Are you carrying drugs in that backpack?"  
"No, sir".  
"Mind if I take a look?"  
At this she seems a bit frightened. "No, yes, um, please don't". She starts to get up, quite haltingly, with the creaky sounds of a sitting position held too long and the backpack very heavily weighing down her small frame. He gets up and reaches to help her, and she flinches away. She starts backing up, looking one way and then another.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna ask you to stop." She does, looking confused and nervous.  
"What do you have in the backpack?"  
"Textbooks."  
"What do you have in the backpack?"  
"Textbooks. Please sir, I, uh, have to go."  
"I'm gonna need to see what's inside."  
"Please don't." She backs up a bit more into a light pole, with the collision making a hard, clanging sound.

"Gimme the backpack, ma'am".  
She stands motionless. There's no hint of defiance on her face, just fear, confusion and panic. But not enough to make her move. He begins to unzip it and she sinks down onto the sidewalk, leaning against the pole with defeat on her face. She stares up at the sky, like she was doing when he first saw her. He continues opening the bag and his eyes widen.  
"Fuck. Shit!"

He begins hurrying back, fumbling for his service weapon in its holster, then trying to train it on her as he continues backing away. He grabs his radio with the other hand and calls it in.


End file.
